


to the start of forever。

by stellarisms



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Amusement Parks, First Dates, First Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 03:59:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4464641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarisms/pseuds/stellarisms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But when our fingers interlock, I can't deny, can't deny (you're worth it.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	to the start of forever。

**Author's Note:**

> For [Carol](http://twitter.com/chipotlesawa), the most precious of all pandas around. Happy (belated) birthday to you and may this small offering of T(hree)YL!8059 on a not-quite-accidental amusement park date put a smile on your face today~☆

 

“…You **what**?!”

Yamamoto starts to laugh.

“Sorry,” says Yamamoto, not sounding sorry at all. “I know you told me to keep an eye on them, but small kids move so fast sometimes, haha, and, well, you kn–”

“I’m not talking about that stupid cow and I-Pin,” Hayato nearly shrieks.  “Or that musclehead Turf Top.  They’ll be fine, but _how could you lose the Tenth?!_ ”

If he’s bothered by Hayato’s point, Yamamoto does a wonderful job of hiding it.

If he’s nervous about being separated from them, Hayato can’t tell.

“Tsuna?”  The nerve of this guy, laughing off Hayato’s concern.  “He’ll be fine! It’s Tsuna, after all.”

“W–” Well.  Got him there.  Hayato can’t argue that point at all, not when Yamamoto smiles with all his teeth like that.  Or with eyes like that.   _Goddammit._  “W-We should still be vigilant! Just in case!”

“In case of what?”  Wide-eyed stare, a faint furrow forming at his brow before he adds, “And…‘vigilant’?”

Hayato quite nearly screams, amusement park-goers be damned.

“You,” grunts Hayato, tugging the bench-bound Yamamoto to stand and stumble after him, “haven’t changed at all in the last three years.  Hell, I would’ve thought your vocabulary might’ve gotten… bigger, at least.”

“Sorry,” Yamamoto says again – this time with a chagrined look that reminds Hayato of a confused puppy.  “We grew up a lot since those Nami Middle world-saving days, though, haven’t we?”

Halfway past the Skydiver, Hayato pauses.

Lets go of Yamamoto’s sleeve.

His fist falls safe at his side, unfurling.

“Yeah.”  Hayato’s lips to start unfurling too - twisting, inward, contorting like the pleasant flutter-leap ready to burst from his chest.  “I guess…we kinda did.”

“Yep.” Yamamoto follows fast on Hayato’s heels.  “We definitely did.”

And that isn’t something Hayato can find reason to argue, either.

 

* * *

 

They start by retracing their steps.

It’s not a huge lot or anything, right? Local amusement park grounds rarely are.

Besides, Hayato reasons aloud while they walk, can’t be that hard to find a couple of kids and a ridiculously tall college student, or someone as unremarkable in a crowd setting as the Tenth.

(Granted, to Hayato, no one was as outstanding as the Tenth!

Personality-wise, anyway.

Even Hayato could admit Sawada Tsunayoshi was, to common onlookers, a typical-looking teenage boy.)

Wait.

“Hold up, Yamamoto.”  Hayato slows to a halt.  “Didn’t we all agree to meet up somewhere if we got separated?”

Yamamoto stops and hovers by the jet coaster gates.

“Did we?”  Yamamoto hums, tilting his head back to peer at the cloudless sky overhead.  “I can’t remember. Can’t remember the place either.”

“Haha, sor–-”

“Don’t you dare–-”

“Um.”  Now Yamamoto’s begun to look a bit flummoxed.  Good.  He deserves it for looking that attractive after running from ride to ride with Hayato, tan lines visible at his gleaming neckline now that he’s shed his plaid shirt for the loose light blue tank top underneath.  “I think…Tsuna said.  Something about a…round something or other?”

“A round something or other,” deadpans Hayato.  “Could you be any more vague?”

“Only if you want me to be,” quips Yamamoto, like he hopes a rare but well-timed smarmy remark will throw Hayato off his balance.

It does.

Even if it doesn’t happen the way Hayato expects.

A crowd happens to pass by where they’re standing.

It’s a bunch of kids from some kind of summer camp, based on their colored shirts and the chaperones circulating around them.

But they broke into a collective run out of nowhere and – Hayato? He’s a few seconds from falling flat on his face.

He might have, too, if not for Yamamoto reaching out and grabbing Hayato’s waist to hold him steady.

(Steady, Hayato thinks, realizing how close Yamamoto’s pressed against his back.   _He’s instinctive, not perceptive.  He can’t read minds, either.  Hopefully._

Steady, thinks Hayato as his startled gasp turns to a shaky inhale.   _It’s fine.  He’s got you.  Which is sorta the problem, but you’ll be in good hands._

Steady, Hayato reminds himself, closing his eyes briefly.   _It’s only Yamamoto.  Just Yamamoto, who’s shot up at least six centimeters these past six months alone, and **shit** he smells good–_ )

“Gokudera?”  There it is again: that weird (not cute, Hayato tries not to cringe at himself when he thinks it) pathetic puppy dog look again. “You okay?”

Ah, yes.

Steady on his feet, Hayato removes himself from Yamamoto’s arms, like he wasn’t inclined to stay there forever.

“Fine.”  Sure.  Of course he is.  Except he sounds awful – awful disappointed.  And sulky.

And ready to take off into a run, so he does.

“C'mon, baseball for brains.”  Hayato calls after him.  “You givin’ up the search already?”

If Yamamoto perks up or wilts after that reaction, Hayato never does turn back to see.

“Not a chance,” Yamamoto laughs, midsummer fireworks and fairground gates, and his long legs soon match Hayato’s quick strides.  “Last one to the Ferris Wheel pays for dinner?”

Their fingers brush, briefly once they’re side by side.

Hayato wonders if the universe has it in for him.

But accident or not, Yamamoto takes to the contact like he does everything in life – smiling, open palms outstretched, latching onto it like something he’s never known he wanted.

Like he’s never noticed, the last three years, how Hayato’s denied wanting this small, momentary thing.

“You’re on,” Hayato’s grin is giddy, goaded into squeezing Yamamoto’s hand that much tighter.

It’s a challenge – unrealized, unvoiced – and Hayato’s never been much for turning away from the promise of a competition.

It’s a challenge – for his inferiority complex, for his constant need to please, for his heart – and it’s no surprise that Hayato craves the slow burn.

Yamamoto Takeshi is a challenge – nothing like the gunpowder and bombs Hayato carries under his clothes like a second skin – because he is no less predictable.

Because he’s no more or less dangerous.

But dangerous as Yamamoto is, Hayato only fears the possibility – a very real possibility, in Hayato’s logical mind – he’ll chase and chase with nothing to show for it.

(Nothing, that is, but the aftermath of destruction and the ashes of a dream blown away by something – someone – Hayato meant to keep close.)

 

* * *

 

Sundown, five runs around the fairgrounds later, Hayato has all but given up.

“Of all the days for Tsuna to forget his phone at home,” Yamamoto groans, slumped against Gokudera’s shoulder inside the cool of the Ferris Wheel’s swaying cart.  “I mean, he’s not attached to it like you are, but––”

“Listen,” huffs Hayato.  He’s still too winded from running around earlier to do more than glare at Yamamoto when he lets out an obnoxious little giggle.  “You wanna fight, asshole?”

“Right now?  Right here?”  If he didn’t know any better, Hayato would have pegged that half-lidded expression on Yamamoto’s face for playful.  “I won’t stop you. If you wanna, let’s do it.  We can take this outside.”

“Okay,” Hayato stops shoving at Yamamoto’s side with his elbow, leaning on the taller boy’s solid weight.  “You’re tooootally picking a fight.  And - guess what?  I’m not falling for it.  Nope.  Not gonna fall for it.”

“Mmnmnhmm…sure, Gokudera.”  Yamamoto yawns, voice going quiet like he’s about to doze off right there.  “Whatever you say.”

Suddenly, Hayato isn’t so tired anymore.

“H-Hey,” Hayato hisses, fearing the worst when Yamamoto’s breathing levels out.  “You…you’d better not fall asleep here for real, Yamamoto, you big–!”

The problem isn’t that Hayato leans in when he’s about to give Yamamoto a piece of his mind.

The problem isn’t that Yamamoto picked his head up to answer Hayato the instant he hears his name.

The problem is – accidents happen.

What’s more, this accident costs them both their first ever kiss.

But Yamamoto isn’t pulling away.

Neither of them do.

He doesn’t think either of them intend to, not even when the angle wrong and their mouths pull apart just long enough to remember to breathe.

(“You–?”  “You too–?”  “Yeah, for…a while.”  “S-Same here.”  “Seriously?”  “S-Shut up and k-kiss me again!  The right way.. idiot.”  “Ahaha, okay.”)

The next time is so, so much better, too, once they figure it out.

(“Like this?”)

Once they do it again one more time, for good luck––

(“Like that.”)

Once they’ve gotten past the hesitant stage and take to testing how teeth and tongue work in this experiment––

( “…Takeshi.”

“Hmm?”

“N-Nothing. Figured I’d try it out…see how it sounds”.)

Once their curiosity fades into courage and Yamamoto’s careful hands bring out quiet appreciative sounds in Hayato that aren’t quite as quiet once he’s urged along–

Once Hayato’s tugged down eager into his lap and trapped between the slow rocking motion of the carriage––

Once he’s surrounded by the strange new heat that runs through him and the firm touch of those hands all over him and the soft whimper of his first name from upturned lips, again and again: _Hayato, Hayato, Hayato_ ––

(“Hehe…sounds good to me.”

“I wasn’t–!”

“Hmm?”

“Ugh.  God, why do I even bother…”

“–Because you like me, right?”

“…Like you even have to ask.”)

 

* * *

 

 

It’s an accident, Hayato discovers, he wouldn’t mind repeating as many times as Yamamoto lets him.

 

* * *

 

Once they loop around and readjust their rumpled state of dress, they find themselves brought back down to earth.

Lambo and I-Pin’s chattering over Ryouhei’s bellowing are the first things to greet them once they’re out of the car.

“Having fun without us, Yamamoto-kun, Gokudera-kun?”

The Tenth’s quiet smile welcomes them back, but Hayato wonders if he’s imagined the vague indulgence in it, like he knows.

“'Course we did,” Yamamoto – no, Takeshi – doesn’t act any different than usual, a friendly arm draped over Hayato’s shoulder and an overenthusiastic declaration of, “We’ve been getting along real well, right, Hayato?”

I-Pin peers at them through her growing fringe.

Lambo tilts his head, the very picture of puzzlement.

Ryouhei looks clueless as always.

And the Tenth – goddammit, Hayato _knows_ he knows now – nods approvingly and beams.

“I’m sure you have,” chirps the Tenth, addresses Takeshi while looking straight at Hayato.  “But let’s talk about that after we meet up with the others for dinner, okay?  Since I’m sure you’ve got lots of stories to tell us.  About your little date, I mean.”

Yamamoto starts to laugh.

Hayato quite nearly screams.

As for their best friend and boss – who knows far too much for his own good – he simply claps them on the back once Lambo and I-Pin lead the way on the long trek back to the bus stop and leaves them to follow silently behind him.

 

* * *

 

They do, of course, end up trailing behind the pack as they leave the amusement park.

It’s no different than before they found the Tenth again.

But Hayato’s fingers lace with Takeshi’s reaching for his when they brush walking side by side and maybe, Hayato thinks, just maybe, some things are better left unchanged.

 


End file.
